Happiness … is not a fish that you can catch
by Tough Fluff
Summary: You've probably read more on Rory and Tristan than you'll ever need to. You had a few quick glimpse into Paris's life. But did you know Louise's story? Do you even care? *hint: she's the blond one.* High rating for strong language.


          This is a little something that popped into my head during my insomnia, which was a product of excessive coffee and painkiller consumption.  (I should really stop doing that during midterm week.)  A one-shot reflection type thingy.  Anyhoo, I thought this would be a fresh perspective on the somewhat repetitive world of GG fics.  Louise had always been an underdeveloped character, at least in my opinion.  Reviews and constructive criticisms welcomed.  (Btw, thanks to all for those who'd reviewed my previous work.  You've made my day.)

          Disclaimer:  I do not own Gilmore Girls and its parade of related characters.  I wish I came up with that, but I didn't.  *sigh*  Title shamelessly ripped from OLP.  No, don't own that either *double sigh*

**Happiness … is not a fish that you can catch**

Louise Grant was sitting in the living room of the summer home.  Warm golden sunlight escaped through the muslin curtains, giving the well-polished antique furniture of the room and extra sheen.  The fragrant gardenias floating in a bowl of water, its perfume mixed with the fresh, slightly stuffy summer air.  Outside, an inconspicuous squirrel darted across the lush green grass.  The setting around her so sickly perfect, it deserved a spot in the next Martha Stewart episode.  However, her face was the exact contradiction of her positive surroundings.  

She's getting married today.  This will be the third time she repeat those exact same vows to a different man.  The holy state of matrimony, there's an exciting thought.  The irony did not escape her.  There's nothing holy, nor exciting in this marriage … or in any of her previous marriages for that matter.  

She still remembered her first wedding.  There were high points; the extravagant Vera Wang gown; the exuberant bouquets of orchids; the exquisitely decorated church; and the exclusively affluent guest list.  The gifts were nice and the cake was good.  They even took up half of the social section's front page of the Hartford Journal.  Best-case scenario.

 More importantly, she was optimistic.  Louise, for a moment there, imagined that maybe for once, she could break the Grant spell and marry for love.  She will _not_ end up like her mother.  She was not anxious to repeat her 5 marriages and her numerous affairs before, during, and after each marriage.  At the very least, she could learn to love him and vice versa.  She let out a silent chuckle.  _That went down the drain._

Then there's the second marriage.  From the outside, it still looked bright and glossy.  The orchids were replaced by a similarly tasteful bunch of hydrangeas.  Her stunning Versace dress still made it to the second page of the paper, but a fraction of her previous guests didn't.  There were pomp and circumstances, but there weren't any love.  Louise learned from her mistake.  The chance of her finding love would be minimal, just like the chance of a diabetic bingeing on Ben and Jerry's would be minimal.  She knew that it _would_ be a marriage on paper.  She just hoped it'd _stayed_ as a marriage on paper.  _That went down the drain too._

Happily ever after was a word they used in fairytales.  A word they used in order to coax little naïve girls to eat their vegetables.  Eat those broccolis, or you'd never find your prince charming, every mother would've said.  Well guess what, you'd never find your prince charming _anyways_! Sometimes, she wondered if she would squeeze in a fourth marriage before the age of thirty.  God forbid, there might even be a fifth.

 Her fingers absentmindedly plucked out the little purple lilac buds from the lovely bouquet, leaving the shrivelled flowers to scatter around her on the ground.  She lightly tossed the bouquet between her hands.  Funny how far it deteriorated from the first one.  It's a small, intimate private ceremony held in the beautifully manicured garden back there.  Just a few good friends from back then … who was she kidding; the word intimate was just an acronym of nobody-gave-a-rat's-ass.  

What the hell, even her fucking father can't stay sober for 3 hours during the day to give her away.  Good news: he won't crash the party while immerged in a drunken stupor like he did last time … and the time before that.  

Louise sneaked a peek at her guests earlier.  Her old friends definitely stood out from the background.  Paris Gellar still displayed an air of superiority just by sitting there.  Rory Gilmore still provided the laughter and intelligent conversation topics.  Both girls were single and it seemed they're happy that way.  Tristan still gravitated toward Rory whenever she's in the room.  He got in touch with them after his military school stint; post Chilton and pre Harvard.  Somehow the three Harvard alumni worked out their differences and had been inseparable ever since.

Surprisingly, Madeline married right out of high school.  Then again, what could Madeline do?  Right now, her kid was wreaking havoc around; picking flowers and throwing rocks into the koi pond.  Unlike Louise, she stayed married.  Her secret: if your standard was low enough and your husband was plain enough, it might've worked.

But Louise _knew_ she'd never be like any of them.  She would never be smart enough to have her name appeared in a medical journal for the latest research breakthrough.  She would never have the ambition or the energy enough to pursue a life long goal.  She would never have the smarts or the opportunity to manage and own a Fortune 500 company.  She would never stay home, sit through PTA meetings, and be a soccer mom.  No matter how much similarities existed between the two, she'd never become another Madeline.

You see, Madeline still received a hefty allowance from her trust fund each month.  She had the luxury to marry an average Joe and still not worry about making ends meet.  That's what she did and that's how she ended up with a suburban life.  Not glamorous, but it's not shitty either.  Unlike Louise, she didn't have to live in fear; fear that one day she would get kicked out of the mansion and would be forced to make a living with her two bare hands.  

She was not exaggerating.  Although the Grants remained to be one of the more influential families in the Hartford area, they're no longer a rich _and _influential family.  The lumber enterprise her great grandfather started had been loosing money due to poor management.  Pieces of the daughter companies were hacked off to pay off her father's gambling debt.  Even _if_ it stayed in one piece and managed to balance the books by the time her father dies, she _still_ wouldn't inherit it.  Her brother would … along with the nightmares that would go along with it.  

Sure, she could put her Sarah Lawrence degree into use and actually find a job to support herself; after all, Paris and Rory did it.  But she honestly didn't have the stamina or the attention span for a 9 to 5 job.  Also, she's definitely not willing to accept the mediocrity that came along with the job description.  If nobody would hand her the kind of life she wanted on a silver platter, she's just going to have to charm it out of some poor schmuk.  

In a way, she saw her marriages as "jobs." The definition of a job would be receiving material and/or monetary reward for the provision of goods and service.  That's exactly what she's doing.  She used the only possession she had, her youth and beauty to exchange for a more secure future.  Fair trade.

Unlike the other airheads, she didn't waste her money on the latest Fendi clutch bag or a Bulgari diamond choker.  She made sure she got her share when she signed on the dotted lines of her pre-nups.  After all these years, she got properties in Paris, Aspen, and Portugal.  She also had a respectable blue chips portfolio and a Swiss bank account.  If this marriage ended up in the drain also, which she _knew_ it definitely would, she'd receive an upper west side apartment along with a yacht.  Not bad.  

Louise was still calculating her worth when the cell phone chirped beside her.  She had been expecting this call all day now, yet, she didn't dive for the phone.  This was like contracting a cold.  You knew something bad was coming up when your throat was parched and the nasal passage was slowly clogging.  Unavoidable, but still not something worth looking forward to.  She allowed 5 seconds to go by before pressing the button.  

"Yo."  The familiar voice from the other end spoke up.  Throaty, confident, and dark, a Drake McLeod trademark.  

"Yo yourself."  She replicated the smoothness and ease.

"Let me guess, you're wearing a cream coloured Chloe dress, hair twisted into tight coils and your flower of choice is lilac."

Silence.  Drake and her, they had a history together.  He knew every single thing there was to know about her.  They were inseparable when they were younger, and she meant physically.  Any location that you can name, they've done it there: the broom closet, his Porsche, her parent's bed, the park bench, the beach.  She thought she would be the girl he'd end up marrying, but that didn't work out.  No way was he going to marry a near penniless girl when his family was suffering in the same predicament as the Grants.  As expected, he married a multimillionaire heirless.  

But, that didn't signify the end of their relationship.  They just couldn't do it in public places anymore, that's it.  Heck, this is probably the longest relationship the both of them would ever experience.  How long had it been?  7, or was that 8 years.  Too long.

"Why did you call."  Not much of a question, but rather an exasperated inquiry.  

"I want to see you, tonight."

"This is my fucking wedding night Drake.  No way in hell am I coming over.  Besides, I'm putting in actual effort to make this one work."

"Bullshit.  I know you can't stand the guy.  _You_ know you can't stand the guy.  What make you think you could pull this one off?"

"Fuck you."  Louise was boiling.  Not because he doubted her, but because he was right.

Drake's chuckle sent shivers down her spine.  "Sure thing.  Friday, 3 o'clock, you know the place."

"I'll see you then."  Despite of her rational mind's protest, she found herself agreeing to it.  She snapped the phone shut and dunk it into the bowl of gardenias, a futile attempt to stop his voice from ringing inside her head.  She was barely borderline rational, Drake had that kind of effect on her.  He had the uncanny ability to read her mind.  

This was one bottomless pit that she stepped into too long ago.  There would be no chance of redemption.  She thought of their pathetic dependence of each other, maybe she _was_ her mother after all.  

Right when she finally managed to compose herself, someone knocked on the door. Tristan.

"You ready for show time?"  His voice expected more enthusiasm than what she could give.  

She took an unnecessary glance at the now soaked phone.  "I have a question for you."

"Not on the Big Bang theory I hope.  The only form of physics I learned in military school was on projectile motion."

"You like Rory, right?"  She was being blunt.  No point in being tact when there's only the two of them in the room.  Tristan's feelings were no news to their group.  She knew, Paris knew, Madeline knew, and she had a sneaking suspicion that Rory knew.  Rory had to know.  That's the only way she could explain the occasional awkward silence between the two.  Watching the two interact is like watching the Vienna waltz, always at arms length.     

Tristan shifted his weigh from one foot to another uneasily.  Most of the previous enthusiasm he displayed was gone.  He was extremely uncomfortable, like a cornered tiger.  "Yes."  A reluctant admission escaped from his mouth.  

"I've seen the way you stared at her.  Tell her.  Take it from someone who'd been down the block a few too many times."  She paused for a moment to snicker at her pathetic life.  "We've known each other since we were in diapers and I don't want you to end up like me.  There is darkness within you, and we both know that only Rory could strip that away.  Don't let her slip through your fingers.  You don't want to look back at your life one day and imagine what _could_ happen between the two of you.  You'd want to reminiscent on events that _actually_ happened."  Louise re-fixed the silky bow of her dress.  She gave Tristan a reassuring pat on the back.  "Trust me on this one.  You _have_ to tell her."


End file.
